


when the night fades away

by jellyfish_queen



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Assassination, Caleb Widogast Has Issues, Civil War, First Kiss, Implied/Referenced Caleb/Astrid, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Introspection, Kissing, M/M, Minor Character Death, Opposites Attract, and me wanting to write a shadowgast fic because I Can Do That, blatant misuse of d&d spells i'm not sorry, episode 63 predictions, kind of a mix between me tinfoil hatting about what's going to happen in 63, realizing 'oh shit i'm in love with them', that one trope where it's like 'why are you helping us we're on opposite sides' 'because I love you'
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-15
Updated: 2019-05-15
Packaged: 2020-03-06 02:26:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,402
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18841741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jellyfish_queen/pseuds/jellyfish_queen
Summary: After a shocking political upheaval, chaos breaks out in the streets of Rosohna, and Caleb and Essik have a few realizations.





	when the night fades away

_Essik is running._

He darts his way through the Gallimaufry, past throngs of people rushing away from the city center. Young and old, goblin, drow, and half-orc, consecuted and not. Rich and poor alike. All desperately trying to flee, desperately trying to escape. The drow rushing to get out of the sun. His levitate enchantment has dropped, and Essik feels the pound of his feet on stone, a feeling he has always associated with death. Death, chaos and panic.

He stops for just a second, just long enough to catch a glimpse of an enormous beast, two long tails flicking behind it, down an intersecting street to his left. Bloodied, broken bodies cover the flagstones around it. And, while Essik looks on in horror, the beast clamps a drow girl in its jaws, killing her near-instantly. It tosses her crushed body aside like a child's doll, then snarls, searching for its next prey.

_Keep moving_ , Essik tells himself. _There are bigger problems._

He can feel the very structure of the city crumbling beneath his feet. The tenuous alliance between the dens would be shattered soon enough, and, like the others, Den Theylas would soon fall into a civil war none of them wanted. The Dynasty would be torn apart at its very roots. And of course, when that happened, the Empire would be ready.

Flames rage up the walls of a den house to his right. Den Ajar, if he’s not mistaken. A minor den, one inconsequential in the complicated weave of Krynn politics. And yet still caught up in the turf wars breaking out all across the city.

_Find the Mighty Nein._ Get them to safety. _That is your goal. The rest can wait._

Though the band of adventurers might have curried favor with the Bright Queen, the other dens, even Den Theylas itself, were less than enchanted by the so-called heroes of the Dynasty. And he wasn't eager for them to be around when the chaos passed.

He has to protect Nott and Jester and Beau, too young to be a part of this war. Protect Yeza, and the information he has on Dunamancy. And most of all, he thinks, he has to protect Caleb Widogast. Caleb, with his strange sense of humor, and his guarded demeanor that hides an intelligent, kind, and talented man. Caleb, with his red hair and scruff of a beard, and the rows of scars on his forearms that he seemed to avoid all questions about.

He isn't sure when he first fell in love with the Zemnian wizard. But now Caleb is all he can think about.

And every time they stayed up late in the library, poring over old tomes, every time he held Caleb's hand as they practiced somatic gestures, every time he caught a spark of joy in Caleb's eye as he learned a new spell, Essik feels himself slipping further.

Falling in love with an impossibility.

He rummages in the pockets of his robes for an obsidian ring, and muttering a dunamantic incantation under his breath, dissolves into the shadows cast by the scathing sun.

_Save the Mighty Nein. Save Caleb. Save this whole goddamn city._

* * *

 

 

_They’re running. Again. It seems like they’re always running from something._

Jester dashes ahead of Caleb, hands gripping the whimpering forms of her weasel and puppy.

Nott runs beside him, her hand clasped tight in her husband’s.

The other members of his new family are around him. Yasha’s eyes spark with rage as she grips her greatsword, Fjord’s hand rests on the hilt of his falchion, Beau dashes up ahead, clearing the way for the rest of them.

They wind their way through the Gallimaufry, through a network of twisted, tangled streets and alleys leading away from the main square. Away from the chaos, the shouts, the fire and screaming. Did he always know they might have to flee Xhorhas someday? To leave Rosohna and their house and dunamancy lessons behind? Part of him thinks so. At least the part of him that kept his bag packed and unopened in the corner of his room. The part of him that counted down the 13 days. The part of him, that, one late night with Essik, managed to glean from the mage when the date of the next Luxon ritual was meant to take place. The part of him that had demanded an audience with the Bright Queen, demanded to warn her of the danger she was in. And been denied entry.

And so they found themselves there, in the crowds amidst the sunlight. There to see a high-ranking drow transform into a scarred woman with a brown pixie cut, dagger at her side. There to see a blade plunged through the chest of Empress Leylas Kryn, Umavi, and Bright Queen of the Krynn Dynasty. There, to gain word of a thousands-strong army marching from the Ashguard Garrison straight towards Rosohna. Soldiers in red, mages in deep blue. And, finally to push through the crowded streets and fight off the beasts as they tore through the Gallimaufry, pausing only to save those who they could from the crawling beasts.

Caleb curses himself as he looks up at the crisp blue skies over Rosohna and thinks of the rifts that had appeared, across the city. Scourgers and beasts had marched through them, the monsters with gnashing teeth and hungry eyes, the Scourgers sparking fire and fear with each step, each swing of a blade.

Would they ever not be running? From the Empire, from the Gentleman, from the Zolezzo and Uk’otoa, all the way to the end of the continent and back. And it was only when they found a home, settled in, planted a goddamned glowing tree in a city without sun, that it all came crashing down.

His mind jumps to Essik. The so-called Shadowhand to the Bright Queen herself. A man, who, he realizes, is the only person he truly trusts outside of their little strange family. The first person to teach him magic in a long time. His mentor, his new friend, and Caleb’s duplicate. His opposite. A clone of what he once had been.

Caleb admires the man, admires his belief in the Dynasty, in what the dens had built together. But every single time he looks at Essik, at the white hair that just barely curls over his forehead, at his big smile and eyes like shattered glass, he can’t help but see a familiar boy with a fist full of fire. A boy who would do anything for his home, and for the defense of his country. A wizard not yet touched by the reality. The biting truth that nobody in this conflict was right, or good, or pure. No matter the Umavi’s talk of her own perfection, or the propaganda posters plastered on every available wall in the entire Empire.

And he hopes to all the gods that he’s wrong about Essik.

_Because holy shit, was he attractive._

Beau stops all of a sudden, looking for any signs of danger, before gesturing the Mighty Nein into a cramped alleyway. They wait in silence as a parade of drow soldiers rush by, shouting about a breach in the Shadowshire, then Fjord gestures them into a circle.

“Shit,” Beau pants. “I knew it. I fucking knew it.Those goddamn Empire bastards couldn’t even let us have three weeks of peace before invading? I mean come on, really. Is it that hard?”

“It’s okay, Beau.” Jester puts a hand on her shoulder to calm her down. “I mean, we’re like, heroes of the dynasty or something, technically. The Krynn wouldn’t kill us, right?”

“I’m not so sure,” Caduceus says. “I mean, wouldn’t it be suspicious that a group of mercenaries, adventurers - whatever we are - from the Empire showed up with a priceless artifact of theirs only a few weeks before the assassination of their leader? If anything it makes us their prime targets.”

“So we run, like always.” Yasha says. “It’s a shame. I would have wanted to see my wife again before we left. And I was kind of hoping to visit your temple, Cad.”

They all breathe. A moment in quiet peace, a storm outside the walls of the cramped alley.

Fjord sighs, breaking the silence. “So, Caleb, can you get us out of here? You know how to teleport to that guy- the guy in Nicodranas? You can get us to his tower, if I’m not mistaken?”

“I can’t, Fjord. I’m sorry. My - my magic - it isn’t powerful enough for that kind of a spell.”

Beau pushes herself up onto an overturned cart. “So what do we do?”

Caleb sighs. “I don’t know. We could stay and fight, help the dens recover. But every hour we stay in this city adds another reason to kill us. Ess - Shadowhand Theylas - mentioned tunnels under the city. I don’t know where they go, or how they work, but that is always an option.”

Beau almost loses her grip on the cart. “And you’d trust the _Shadowhand_ on this? The right-hand man of the woman who was just _murdered_ in front of our very eyes? What’s to say that they aren’t crawling with the beasts from the rifts?”

“I trust him.” Caleb says. “I believe, or I would like to believe, that he wouldn’t harm us.” _Wouldn’t harm me. All that goddamn flirting had to be backed up by something, right?_   “I think that we can trust his advice. But it’s a strange thing, those who believe without question in their own ideals, and in their country. If we are to do this, we should, at the very least, have caution in how we proceed.”

“Don’t worry, Widogast. I’m not going to harm you.”

And out of thin air, where once there was empty space, comes the Shadowhand. The form of Essik Theylas materializes in front of them as if drawn, fully created, from the shadows themselves. But he looks different somehow. Changed. His normally pristine demeanor is shattered, a bloody gash cuts across his forehead, and, Caleb notes, as he takes a step towards the Mighty Nein, his boots touch the floor. He’s walking like a normal person. Gods, this must be serious.

Nott screams, grabbing her crossbow and pointing it at the Shadowhand’s chest. “What are you doing here? What is your name? Why do you look like Essik? Where are you hiding him?” She shoves Yeza behind her, who tumbles into Caleb's leg.

“There’s no need, little goblin. It is me.” With an almost imperceptible gesture, the Shadowhand knocks the Tinkertop Bolt Blaster 1000 out of Nott’s hand, sending it clattering to the cobblestones. Nott picks it up and glares at him.

“I’m here to protect you. I swear it on the Sacred Umavi. I have a spell that can get all eight of you away from here. To wherever you need to go. But I’m assuming you would like the chance to get your things packed first, am I correct?”

The rest of the Mighty Nein murmur an assent.

“Then that’s settled.” He clicks his boots together, and begins to ever so slightly rise into the air, the levitate spell taking effect. “Follow me.”

They begin to make their way through the side streets and alleys of the Gallimaufry, which he seems to be uncannily familiar with. Oh well. A conversation for another time. They are only stopped once, by a contingent of Kryn guards, but a few remarks from the Shadowhand get the soldiers to leave the Mighty Nein alone.

Fjord pushes the door to their house open, sword at the ready for any intruders that might have come wandering in, but any semblance of stealth or caution is ruined almost the second the rest of them step in the door. They immediately set to work, picking up Yeza and Nott’s chemicals, locking doors and windows, cleaning the kitchen, and setting their bags in the war room.

Amidst the chaos of packing, he feels a hand grip his shoulder. Essik. The drow man smiles down at him,white hair framing his face. “Get packed as quickly as possible, Caleb, then meet me in the garden. I want to talk with you. In private.”

Either Essik’s hardcore flirting with him, or he’s absolutely clueless. And Essik is by no means a stupid man.

He quickly drops his one bag in the war room, tells Beau where he’s headed and then, ignoring her bitter glares at him, ascends the staircase to the Xhorhouse’s garden.

 

Though the sun still shines over Rosohna, the enchantments that keep the city in its eternal night are being slowly lowered, as though watching a sunset be spread like a blanket over the Corona district. But though the night begins to shroud the city once more, he fears it will not be enough. The Scourgers and beasts are already here, and the forces from the Garrison will soon descend on the capital city.

Essik is standing there, solemn and stoic, watching the sky. His face is softly illuminated by the lanterns dangling from the tree.

“I am worried, Caleb,” he says. “I’m worried for the fate of this city and for what will happen to the tens of thousands of innocents who live here. When the Empire arrives, they will not give us the honor of discrimination. Between those who fight and those who watch in fear. You know they will not. We’re all just monsters to them. All _cricks._ ”

A tear falls down his cheek, illuminated in the glow of the _daylight_ enchantments.

“So I will help you, I will teleport you to safety. But remember that my duty is first to my people, and to my city.”

"Why?" Caleb asks. The question cuts through the quiet.

"What do you mean?" Essik replies.

"Why are you helping us? You're a child of the Dynasty. You have every right to be mad at us. Many of us are sons and daughters of the Empire ourselves. The dens are at war, there's armies marching on the city, beasts and Scourgers are coming through the rifts. It would be just as easy to throw us to the wolves. So why are you helping us run?"

"Because I believe that the eight of you, with your strength and your knowledge, could help us turn the tide in this war." He fidgets with the collar of his cloak, not looking at Caleb. Thinking. Eventually he speaks again. "Mr. Widogast?"

"Yes, Essik?"

"This might seem a bit forward, but I have a question to ask you, and I want you to answer me honestly. Do you know that woman? The one who- who killed the Umavi?"

Caleb is silent for a moment. Thoughts rush through his head. How much did the Shadowhand know? How much did he suspect? Did he know of Trent and the _Völlstreckers_? "Why do you want to know?"

"Just a simple hunch."

Did he trust Essik? Maybe. Maybe not. At the very least he wants to believe that he can. And that's the first step, isn't it?

Caleb swallows, sighs. "I did not just know her. I loved her."

_Or Bren did._

A look comes across Essik's face. A look caught somewhere between surprise, anger, and understanding.

"We worked together. When we were young. She and I, we were both young, prodigious mages, servants of the empire. I thought that I knew who she was. I thought that I knew who I was. But I suppose that I was wrong on both counts.”

Essik lowers his gaze. “Ah, I see.”

“That woman - she is dangerous. She will not flinch at doing what even the strongest, most capable of men would hesitate at. She is a mage, a wielder of blades, and if she wasn’t - insane before, she most definitely is now. If you ever cross paths with her again, be very careful.”

“Thank you. I will.”

_Just enough to satisfy his question. No more._

Essik takes a seat on the garden bench. "Sit." Caleb sits down beside him.

"I have been the teacher of many students in my time, Caleb. Students just like you. I have seen hundreds try-and fail-to grasp the intricacies of such a complicated school of magic. So this makes your case a very interesting one, Mr. Widogast. You, a child of the empire, have learned more in just a week of lessons than many learn in a month. Your affinity for this magic is unlike anything I've ever seen. Some might even say _prodigious_."

"Thank you, Essik. I have had the privilege of an excellent teacher."

Essik chuckles to himself. A slight blush forms on his cheeks. "I would be no such teacher without such an eager student." He stands up, reaches into the folds of his embroidered robes and pulls out two elegant, leather-bound books. He hands them both to Caleb. "These two books contain everything you need to know about the basic principles of Dunamancy. Including your beloved _fate spells_.There is only so much I can show you. The rest, as you have proven to me, is already up there."

Caleb opens one of the books and flipped to the inside front cover. "From the Library of Shadowhand Theylas" was crossed out, replaced by the message, "Property of Caleb Widogast, with much love from the Shadowhand." " _Danke_ , Herr Theylas." Caleb smiles. I think i will enjoy these very much."

As Caleb stands up and turns to rejoin his friends in the war room, he feels a hand on his shoulder. "I have more thing for you. Before you leave." Caleb turns back around. But before he can register anything, he feels a hand at his back, pulling him forward, and the soft press of another's lips on his. Essik's lips.

_Holy scheisse, he is being kissed by Shadowhand Essik. And he’s not a bad kisser, either._

Essik pulls back, evidently just as embarrassed as he is. "I'm sorry," he says, though his voice conveys the opposite. "It was unprofessional of me to-"

Caleb pulls him down and silences him with another kiss. "You don't have to apologize, _Liebling,_ " he whispers.

The next kiss is longer, more drawn out. Essik wraps a firm arm around him, pulling their bodies closer together as he backs Caleb up against the tree. Every thought Caleb had is drowned out of him, replaced by the feeling of their embrace, and the soft kisses Essik pressed against his lips. And though the urgency of their situation permeates the gaps between them, it only causes him to kiss longer, deeper than before.

The books tumble out of his hands and fall to the ground. Caleb leans his arm on Essik's shoulder, placing the other on his hip. Essik's other hand reaches up, weaving through Caleb's dirty auburn hair.

One minute. That is how long they stand like this for. Caleb counts every second.

And just like that, it's over. They part, Essik untangling himself from their embrace, Caleb stepping away from the tree. He picks up his books from their resting place among the flower beds and looks up at Essik. Essik smiles.

"When you return to Xhorhas, stop by the Bright Queen’s citadel, and ask for me. I promise you we'll have a follow-up."

"A dunamancy lesson?" Caleb replies. "Or whatever the fuck that just was?"

Essik laughs. "Ill let you be the decider of that."

"A follow-up. It's agreed."

"A follow up. Now let’s get out of this blasted sun before I burn to a crisp."

They walk back down the spiral stair, to where the rest of the Nein are waiting in the war room, bags packed.

"So, Mighty Nein," Essik asks. "Where to?" He reaches into a robe pocket and mutters an incantation.

Clay cuts in. "The Mother's Lighthouse in Nicodranas. There's a temple to Melora there, and I have several questions that I would like to ask my Lady.”

Essik smirks. “The Mother’s Lighthouse it is, then. I’m familiar with the place.” He does a complicated gesture with his fingers in the air, and, around Caleb, the war room fades, replaced by the cry of seagulls, the smell of salty air, and the sights and sounds of Nicodranas.

As the Mighty Nein blink from Essik’s sight, he continues staring at the wall behind where they once were. The _Luxon’s light be with you, travellers,_ he thinks. _May you save this city._

**Author's Note:**

> Not Pictured:
> 
> Beau: Whadda you reckon Caleb and Essik are doing?
> 
> Jester: I bet they're kissing.
> 
> Beau: Yeah, probably. HEY CALEB, STOP HAVING SEX WITH ESSIK AND COME DOWN HERE WE NEED TO LEAVE


End file.
